Mice
by WybourneObsessed
Summary: Why did she ever decide to use mice as her spies? They could easily be demonished by the swipe of a paw from a black animal that could be described as nothing but vermin.


**A/N: Geez, I got this idea while I was taking a freaking shower. xD**

**That's not weird at all.**

**Just a little one-shot, created by boredom. **

**Enjoy. :D**

* * *

Why she decided to use mice for her spies, she would never know.

Dolls were efficient, but unlike mice, they could not hide in the many cracks and crevices and hear almost everything. Dolls were satisfactory, but they took so much time to create.

Besides, she was able to see what the child looked like through the beady eyes of the rodents.

But, she still wondered, why did she use mice? Why not use something like a cat?

Even the word sent an angry shudder through her skeleton-like bones and she would begin to tap her sharp needle hands together, creating a symphony of metallic chimes and clinks.

_Vermin _was a more... adept word for the oily black nuisance that found ways into her world faster than she could seal them up. The nerve of that animal, traveling in and out of her world. _Her _domain.

Every now and again the nameless thing would suddenly appear at the worst of times, when she was reminded of her hunger and the fact that another child would need to be diminished of its soul so that she could remain alive.

"Hmm," the silky-smooth voice breaks the silence, and she looks up from her place at the kitchen table to see the animal perched upon the windowsill, licking its paw calmly.

"Get out of here, _vermin._" she would hiss, her right hand clicking as though it would jump from her wrist and tear the thing to black threads.

"Vermin is hardly a word to describe a cat." it would reply, ear twitching as if hearing something she couldn't. "However, I _would _describe those... as vermin."

In one quick motion, the cat would leap from the windowsill and bound after the little rodent that was hopping away on its kangaroo-like legs. All that was needed was a prompt swipe from a claw-extended paw and the mouse was in his mouth.

"Now these," the cat would brag, giving the squirming rat a finishing bite to the spine, silencing its squeaks. It'd lay the dead thing at his feet, between his paws. "_These _are vermin."

Her button eyes would glare and watch the cat trot out of the house with its meal. If only she could catch her prey that easily. "_Vermin." _she replies, even though he is long gone.

Why does she use such vulnerable spies? Ever since that ridiculous blue man moved into the real Pink Palace with his "mouse circus," those rats have been all over the place. So, why not use theme to your advantage?

But when she created the Other Bobinski, the rats would sometimes misplace themselves and somehow find their way into her kitchen, and they'd all sing that wispy song, staring at her with beady, suddenly red eyes.

_We are small but we are many,_

_We are many, but we are small,_

_We were here before you rose,_

_We will be here when you fall._

Her eyebrows would rise up slowly, and her four-holed eyes would watch as they skittered back upstairs to their master, awaiting Coraline's return.

The song was somewhat annoying to her, she didn't know why. They most definitely were not there before she became what she is today, and they will be nothing but sacks of dust when she snaps her pale fingers after capturing her next meal.

But now she sits at the end of her unwoven web, scraping at the door with one hand, hoping that someday she will destroy the barrier that blocks her from her only food source.

Coraline. Children in need of a loving mother.

And even as her hand slowly threads the needle and she sews on another pair of eyes, she can't help but think of the rats hiding somewhere in her blank world, singing that song that now mocks her.

_We were here before you rose,_

_We are here now that you fall._

She tries to see the upside of things after her new buttons allow her vision to revive. A blank world, a blank canvas.

"You have to destroy something in order to make it better." she whispers, silently running her needle hands over the doll that represented a button-eyed Coraline.

That's the way every web is made.


End file.
